


Wet Tiles

by Seaneta



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blindfolds, Blood, Community: hannibalkink, Forced Voyuerism, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Original Character(s), Prompt Fill, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3293156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seaneta/pseuds/Seaneta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt Fill: OMC kidnaps Will and Hannibal and ties Hannibal to a chair. He blindfolds and ties Will up before fucking Will in front of Hannibal. Hannibal takes it all in stoically before getting himself free and killing the man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wet Tiles

**Author's Note:**

> Totally new to this fandom, but completely in love with it! I'm apologizing right now for any errors in plot or characterization. I saw this prompt and just had to write it.  
> Original Prompt can be found here: http://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org/2246.html?thread=3066822

It was the smell he noticed first.

Although his captor gave him enough of a benzodiazepine to sedate someone triple his size, Hannibal Lecter could process and break down drugs quicker than most. With his lifestyle, both during the day and at night, it was a wonderful advantage. He rarely succumbed to the aftereffects of alcohol, though he occasionally partook in the fine art of _pretend_ around oblivious colleagues. Wine normally dulled his prey’s senses, while it only made his sharper.

He was appreciative of his body’s pristine system in regards to soberness, but smell?

Right now, not exactly.

The suited man tested his bonds against the heavy chair. Apparently, a few minutes was all this particular stranger needed to subdue him. He was efficient, Lecter noted, as his body continued to drive the remains of the drug out of his bloodstream. His strength grew back steadily, but the thick rope did not budge. His ankles were tied securely to each chair leg, his wrists along the armrests with coarse rope. The twine brushed against the fabric he wore and his one sleeve had been roughly shoved up to his bicep (a small needle mark rested on skin), and Hannibal made another note; This suit was ruined.

The stoic doctor lifted his chin, gauging the room. There were broken stalls close by, some lacking hinges with their doors discarded on the stained, cracked tiles. The restroom looked abandoned, adorned with decade-old grime. His suit jacket laid discarded among the filth, and what buzzing yellow lights were on flickered and made everything appear more repulsive. He ceased testing the bonds; they wouldn’t budge and he wanted to conserve the energy he had. If he began to breathe any heavier than his calm pace anyway, he’d gag from the overwhelming smell of disinfectant and urine.

This situation was neither alarming or new. Already he visualized over a dozen scenarios of him reaching those broken mirrors a few feet away and slashing through the rope, or perhaps though his captor’s neck. This wasn’t going to be a purposeful killing, he wasn’t going to make the person behind this into a masterpiece for Will to find and obsess over. Oh, no. This stranger wasn't worth their time, especially Graham’s. This would be a punishment. Hannibal planned to just gut man and strangle him with his own intestines. Kidnapping a friendly psychiatrist was one thing, it was another thing entirely to kidnap a skilled killer.

But a different scent distracted him from his thoughts, and Hannibal moved his stiff neck to the side and caught the sight of Will Graham.

Like Hannibal, he was also bound to a wooden chair with thick restraints.

Unlike Hannibal, he was naked. And unconscious.

This changed the game, the doctor realized with distasteful frown. Loose bangs dangled close to his eyes at the sight of his favorite agent. Even in sleep, anxious sweat erupted from small pores, and dark strands of hair along his heaving chest shined. Hannibal would be curious to know if his nightmares would change after this encounter. Facial features twitched, parted eyelids showed the whites of Will’s eyes as his head rolled. Hannibal narrowed his own. Will was also dosed with a sedative, and he was very familiar with the male’s low tolerance for drugs.

This would be…more troublesome than he originally thought.

 

Will swam back to consciousness with the same weary determination he used after a late night with a crime scene. But he wasn’t wrapped in bed sheets, nor had he sleepwalked along a highway. His head throbbed as though someone beat it with a brick. He tried opening his eyes, but they felt so _heavy_. His head bobbed as eyelids fluttered, and the back of his skull bumped into something solid behind him. Oh, yeah, there was a huge bruise back there. But he couldn’t lift his hands to inspect the lump. Once, twice, three times he jiggled his wrists, but they just wouldn’t move. The restraints were tight, and as his vision slowly came back to him, Will could see it was a very coarse, thick rope. It was everywhere. It confined him to a chair.

“Ow, ueh, ouch, _shit_.”

The more he tried to move, the more the abrasive rope rubbed against his bare skin. He felt trapped, cornered, and a terrible sense of dread washed over him. There was a steady sound of something dripping, a faucet?, as his senses came and went, like a camera unable to focus. His head continued to bob; he couldn’t help it. A pink tongue kept popping out to trace the numb and dry lips he felt there. In fact, his entire mouth felt dehydrated. This was uncomfortable; as more feelings same to him, Will found himself wishing to go back to sleep. The monsters in his nightmares were better than this.

Blinking more, his body sluggish and aching, Will could finally process why he felt such an unbearable chill. Anxiety crashed over him next. He was naked, bound. Most likely by the _Letter Man_ Killer case he was working on with Jack. But he couldn’t remember his abduction. Couldn't recall-

“Will.”

He stopped his panicked thrashing.

“Doc..tor…Luh…Luh..ter?” A shaky intake of breath turned into nervous gulps of air. He couldn’t even get words out correctly. But Hannibal was there. He wasn’t alone. Who better get him through a panic attack than his own doctor? “Wha…is thees?” He shook his head, trying to clear out the fog in his mind and the ache in his jaw. Their attacker punched him a few times, it seemed.

“Will, you have been drugged with a potent sedative. You must remain calm.”

The agent took a deep breath and tried to think past the smoke in his brain. He recognized some of the affects, recollecting vague and distant memories back in high school, and he bit his lip, pushing down the panic. _This wasn’t good._ Both Hannibal and him were trapped in some godforsaken shithole and while the doctor managed to make looking like a hostage fucking classy and refined, Will was painfully exposed with his dick out and sweaty hair stuck to his forehead.

“I…” he swallowed, trying break the bonds, “I don’t -ike this.”

“Save your energy,” Hannibal responded evenly.

Will was beautiful like this, but he had no desire to see the man continue to hurt himself if Hannibal wasn’t responsible for it. The tiny rivers of blood that began to run down the tops of Will's feet and coat his ropes were not satisfying. Their captor was not going to be accountable for any markings on Graham. No, that was unacceptable. Will was _his_ canvas, his clay to mold and create into a masterpiece. This kidnapper was just going to be a small hiccup. A small, but _rude_ , hiccup. Nothing will come from this. Except, if anything, Will placing his trust in Hannibal even more.

“I’m- I’m nere…going to hear the -nd of this. From Jack.” He took a breath. “Alana.”

Hannibal opened his mouth to speak, but the rusted door on the other side of the room abruptly pushed open.

 

 

“Not to worry,” a raven-haired man smiled, kicking the door shut. “I can assure you that no one will be rescuing either of you.”

With sharp steps, he walked over to the heaving agent, making a show of bending over like one would when speaking to a child. “You look different in person, Mr. Graham.” He nodded vigorously at his own comment. “Yes, different. Still pretty-pretty, but different.”

Fingers mockingly caressed his cheek and Will shook the assaulting hand away. A yelp followed immediately after when a chunk of his hair was grabbed. The man stood, yanking the locks up with him, and Will whined from the restraints stretching little. He didn’t want to be weak, be so pathetic as Hannibal watched close by. But the pain was immediate, so blinding it blotted out his vision. And then he heard the flick of a butterfly knife.

“I’ve, uh, been watching you for a while now, William Graham. You and your friend over there were getting pretty close to finding me,” he laughed, “So I had to find you guys first!”

“If-If you let us…go..-”

Will grunted when he felt the man’s weight press against him as he straddled him, his clothes prickly against his bare chest.

“Let you go?” He parroted, playing with the tip of the blade against Will’s eyelids while the other hand tangled in his hair once more and closed in a fist. “ _I’m not going to let you **go**_.” They yanked harshly, exposing Graham’s throat. His body involuntarily convulsed.

Just a few feet away, Hannibal emitted an undetectable exhale through his nostrils. “I would advise against-”

“ _Ah_ , ah, ah, ah!” The kidnapper tsked, looking over at the stoic doctor. “You don’t get to talk, peanut gallery. You just watch, yeah? Count yourself lucky.”

Hannibal continued to survey the scene as it unfolded before him with a straight face. Even in restraints, the doctor had a grace about him.

Will thrashed against the man’s weight, muttering “get off me” until it ceased to slur on his heavy tongue. The drug still rampaged through his system, but the external sensations kept him focused, reminding him not to give up.

Will was a beautiful, perfect creature. Naked and restrained suited him well. It was just a horrible shame Hannibal wasn’t the one behind it.

“Now, now…let allow me to…” The man hopped off Will’s lap, ignoring the pained wheeze and instead landed on the hard tile with a _crack_ of his knees. The agent blinked, unbelieving, when the dark haired man began to cut the bindings around his ankles. He sensed this, apparently, and glanced up while slicing. “One wrong move, William, and this blade goes into your gut.”

The brunet clenched and unclenched his shaking hands, still feeling a numb sensation. Even with his legs freed, they were useless. The sedative may began to clear his head, but it hadn’t left his muscles. _Just give it enough time…_

Will anxiously watched the man cut the ropes, nervous he would stab flesh and not feel it, dying from blood loss later on. Assuming he’d live to reach a “later on”. He definitely wasn’t going to glance over at Hannibal anytime soon. It was humiliating enough that he was naked and apparently the focus of this kidnapping, but he didn’t want to see the disappointment in the doctor’s eyes when he couldn’t even take down some lunatic with freed legs. Standing once more, playfully tapping Will’s spasming thighs when finished, the man began to trace Will’s jaw line, feeling the stubble and watching as the fair skin gave under the weight of his touch. At his cracked lips, he paused; The agent panted, his mouth slightly open, and without preamble, he slipped two fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue until he gagged.

It was grotesquely arousing, until Will bit him as hard as he possibly could. The man shook his hand away with a bark, but still let out a few chuckles before backhanding Will with an echoing _smack_. Blood pumped through Will’s veins as muscles continued to twitch. A gash in his right cheek reddened and began to bleed. The hit would swell.

“It would _not_ be in your best interest-”

Once again, Hannibal’s smooth voice was cut off by the man. “Sit still,” he hissed at Will before leaving him and stalking towards his second captive. Hannibal remained unfazed, however, even as the man stood before him and began to loosen his silk tie. “Hope you don’t mind,” the man muttered, tussling the psychiatrist’s hair as he slipped the expensive fabric from around Lecter’s collared shirt. Shaking loose strands of hair away from darkening eyes, Hannibal grimaced, his reserve slipping.

Will blinked repeatedly, but before he had any idea what was happening, everything went black when his eyes were covered with a piece of warm cloth. It was tied tightly at the back of his head- the overwhelmingly familiar scent indicated their kidnapper made do with what he had- It was Hannibal’s necktie.

“S-stop this!” He shouted, thrashing with all his energy but felt his unresponsive legs only beginning to tingle. “What do yous wan-”

Suddenly, he went rigid. Warm hands traced the line of his neck and shoulders, sliding down his chest then back up again. Pinching his nipples, playing with his sparse chest hair. The man was behind him now, using his hands to listen to his loud heartbeat. Although it was frightening to be blind around this madman, Will was grateful for the comforting scent of Hannibal’s cologne. It was the man’s usual brand; something he always wore during their sessions together. Will tried to pretend this was one those appointments, where he had his eyes closed as an exercise. _But. Those. Hands_.

“As a precautionary measure-”

“ _Shut up, Doctor_ …” The man sang, not even bothering to look over at the blank face of Lecter as his hands continued their journey. They started at the collarbones and went all the way down to Will’s quivering lower abdomen. The man growled then, and suddenly slid down to palm the agent’s flaccid length until it came to life. Will groaned breathlessly, shaking his head. The other hand twitched along Will’s throat, as though he contemplated squeezing it.

Hannibal tried once more, his patience thinning, “I am clearly giving you a forewarning-”

“You speak again, Doctor Hannibal Lecter,” he seethed the words, “and I will kill your patient and have him anyway.”

“Fucking get off me.” Will spat out, straining against the ropes.

The man pulled away and reclaimed his place in front of Will, his hands resting on Will’s knees, spreading his lifeless legs as he knelt down between them. Will tried to worm away, not liking this new, even more vulnerable, positioning. He hopelessly prayed that the chair would give and he could just melt through the back. But the man’s arms slithered around his naked waist with ease and pulled Will closer to his vile mouth. Chipped nails grazed against his lower back, clawing over his ass. It was petrifying, not knowing what was going to happen, not being able to see the advancements of the fucker’s hands. He was confined in darkness.

Hot lips touched the tip of his member, and Will didn’t realize his mouth was on autopilot, muttering “no, no, no, no” repeatedly, desperate. But the kidnapper suddenly lifted his head and the fingers loosened their grip. Heaving, Will felt his blood calm little even if the hands on his hips kept him as alert.

The current state of Will was enough to drive an insane man sane. Hannibal drank in the sight of Will’s heaving chest, his trembling muscles, the sheen of his sweat, the enticing sound of his moans. Some pathetic, lousy _amateur_ had no right to perform such acts, having no claim to Will. And when he caught the glimpse of a small tube of lubricant in his pants pocket, Lecter knew these restraints would have to go. Rarely he encountered such an uncooperative criminal. They were normally so willing to brag, to talk.

With slow, precise movements, Hannibal scooted his chair back with minimal sound. Broken glass laid just beyond his grasp along a sink counter.

 

The dark haired man poured lube onto his fingers and reached between Will’s legs. Pushing just one finger inside made Will scream. The binds dug into his wrists. “You wouldn’t be so… _panicked_ if I left your clothes on, William, and just cut you up. _Tattlecrime_ mentioned something about a problem with intimacy.” He said conversationally, moving the finger back and forth, his eyes fixed on the agent as he added another.

Minutes passed, and he continued the ministrations as Will whimpered and groaned, at times trying to scoot away with no avail.

“teh-hmgh, no-stop-stop-no-you-bas-!”

The man couldn’t wait any longer after hearing Will scream for a second time with one particularly deep thrust. With one hand, he lifted Will up slightly, just enough for him to use his own legs as leverage before he seated himself on the chair with Will straddling him. He unzipped his own pants, reducing his discomfort, and leaned in; pressing their bodies together. Will could feel his cock brush against the man’s and he felt like gagging. He was attracted to both men and women throughout his life, but never had he ever experienced sexual violence like this before. Never thought he’d be apart of _that_ particular statistic.

Three fingers now entered and exited Will’s opening and, without stopping, the man pressed his face into the crook of Will’s neck. He inhaled the man’s terrified scent, licked his sweat, and his mouth opened over the tense muscles he felt there, and bared teeth sunk deeper and deeper-

Another scream, followed by a sob. In a frenzy, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer, the man clumsily coated his own length with the lotion and positioned himself. He didn’t push inside slowly. With one buck of his hips, he went inside, stretching him and burying himself in record time. Will bit his lip, immensely trying to swallow his cries. A ribbon of blood poured from an open gash, down his chin and dripped onto the man’s shoulder blade. Will dissolved into a twitching mass of nerves. He had no idea what was happening to his body. He just knew this invasion was unwelcome, and his body was going to some sort of panicking survival mode, constantly shivering and twitching. Maybe this was the onset of another seizure. _Not good-not good, I can’t pass out, can’t pass out, can’t pass out- not good-_

Although Hannibal was captivated with Will’s increasingly desperate reactions, he continued to saw his way through the bindings with skilled, nimble fingers. He directed a heavy stare at the assailant, not once glancing down as twine broke. A wonderful range of facial expressions crossed Will’s face - pain, indignation, rage, an animalistic fight. It was breathtaking, but those emotions belonged to Hannibal. William Graham did not belong to this cretin. His body and mind was in the possession of him and him alone.

“He’s….guh….very sensitive…isn’t he?” The man rocked his hips into Will, but spoke to Hannibal, completely oblivious of his other prisoner’s near escape. “Tell me…doctor, where does he…ugh…liked to be touched? Bet you know.”

Will gasped, the pain unbearable. Tears dampened the tie and mixed with the blood along his face. _This is not happening- Christ, this cannot be happening, not here, not with Hannibal right here, not-_ The man continued to grind relentlessly into Will, breathing heavily but still using energy to hook slippery fingers along Will’s chin and lean in to kiss the agent. Forcing Will’s mouth to meet the man’s own, the agent tried to pull his head away, but the man’s grip on his chin was strong and he had moved his other hand to the back of his head, fingers twisting in his hair.

At least Will couldn’t see the man’s face. Couldn’t see his sick satisfaction.

 

As brutally as the invasion began, it stopped.

A sickening crunch pierced the room and the hand behind Will’s head disappeared, replaced with cool air tickling his damp locks.

Hannibal watched, curious, as the man’s mouth opened in a piercing scream but no sound came out. His arm twisted behind his back, bent at an unnatural angle; the man too in shock to properly move and, apparently, make any noise. With a strong hand, Lecter wrapped around the attacker’s waist and his lips crept close to his ear with soft, yet venomous words. “You have made a mistake.”

He twisted the man’s arm further and finally a high-pitched wail exploded from his throat. Hannibal threw him away, watching as his back hit the nearby stall with a loud bang. The flimsy barrier came crashing down on top of him, causing the man to shriek as it collided with his fractured arm. Hannibal paused for only a few moments to ensure he wouldn’t get back up right away before tearing his gaze and looking at Will.

His battered body continued to shudder as sweat lined the silk tie, blood crusting along his chin and bound wrists. The brunet had no idea what was happening, his breathing still irregular and his head anxiously turning. Will was stunning terrified, he truly was. Grabbing his discarded suit jacket along the grimy tiles, the doctor walked towards Will and wrapped the fabric around the other man’s shoulder for some comfort.

“Wha-what’s-”

“Shhh.” Hannibal’s eyes roamed, assessing the damage. He wouldn’t cut away the agent’s bonds just yet, as there were no apparent injuries that needed any _immediate_ attention.

“Pl-please,” Will swallowed, “take the cloth off, please- I- I can’t-”

Hannibal quietly turned with socks on wet tiles, and got to work. He rolled his sleeve up to match the other and sought after the sliver metal on the floor. With an impassive face, he squatted down in front of the fallen man. He lifted the stall wall and moved away. The kidnapper’s face was tinged with tears and blood as he cradled his broken arm. Hannibal frowned.

“Agent Graham is mine,” he spoke softly. “And it’s out of place to play with someone else’s toy.” Hannibal glanced back at Will. He should last a little longer before falling too deep into the rabbit hole. The butterfly knife had traces of Will’s blood on it. Hannibal held it out as an imminent threat as he spoke. “Now, you must understand something. I already have a claim on Will Graham. And others must not interfere with my work. You will serve as a warning to others. So the world knows.”

“You b-b-bastard, you fucking-” he choked, “I’m going to kill you, kill you-”

Hannibal leaned back when the male thrashed out, and waited only a few seconds until the pain caught up with the younger man’s mind and listened to him shriek. He was weak, pain riddled.

“Your arm is broken-”

“Go to…fuckin' hell.”

A simple grab of the arm, flick of the wrist, and the snapped limb became a compound fracture. Interruptions while the doctor spoke were infuriating. The exposed bone glistened in the harsh light. It earned Hannibal a few screams. The man’s chest rose with harsh breaths, his dark eyes glazed over with agony and Hannibal felt satisfaction shift inside him. This was justice. Hannibal considered the thought of releasing Will to see what he would do, but in the end he rejected the idea. This had to be done by him.

Will continued to wrestle with his own demons behind Hannibal, taking in shuddering breaths that supplied the doctor music as he took hold of the protruding radius in the man’s arm.

"Han-Hannibal? Dr. Lecter?" He called, worried for his friend. 

Hannibal crouched closer to the amateur-kidnapper, twisting the bone.

“It is dangerous to be an enemy of the Ripper.”


End file.
